


2.11 Playthings Scene Extension/Coda

by fogsrollingin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comforting Dean Winchester, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s02e11 Playthings, Gen, HARD gen, Hugs, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sam Winchester Angst, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sharing a Bed, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fogsrollingin/pseuds/fogsrollingin
Summary: The scene where Sam begs Dean to kill him if he goes darkside.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 120





	2.11 Playthings Scene Extension/Coda

  


It was a lie.

Dean knew it was a lie before he said it and yet he said it because Sam was drunk and getting worked up and sometimes just giving him what he wanted to settle down was worth a lie.

_You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I’m not… you have to kill me._

_I promise._

Heavy lie, though.

Sam’s body shuddered where he lay on the bed. Dean got up to throw a blanket over him. As he did, he realized Sam was still awake. He’d been turned away from Dean but now he could see Sam was just staring at the wall, eyes wet, breathing a little choppy but keeping it together. Sam’s arm was extended because of the cast. It made him look like the kid he still was, falling apart under his own father’s prophecy that he would…

Dean shook his head clear. Dad’s last words were bullshit. For the reasons he gave Sam about how you don’t just lay that on your kids, but also the deeper reasons Dean was still grappling with himself. Dad’s last words to him had betrayed the love and trust Sam not only deserved, but had fully earned from his family. How was it even possible for the man to say what he did when he and Dean had both had the same priorities where Sam was concerned for the past twenty-plus years? How could the man see even a kernel of malice in Sam?

Sam sniffled, pulling Dean out of his thoughts and turning back to the emotional drunk of a little brother he had laid out before him. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, placed a hand on Sam’s back. After a few moments of quiet, of making sure Sam would let him, Dean slid his palm up and down his back, along both sides of the kid’s spine, warming his shoulders. Gentle pressure, reassuring, comforting. Sam cut off a drunken sob with a wheeze.

“Oh come on,” Dean huffed testily, lowering himself so he could cover him with a hug. Sam tensed at first but then relaxed, his breath easing. It made Dean feel better too even though Sammy’s hair smelled like sweat, booze, and the old musty floral perfume that pervaded this house and all its spooky-ass dolls.

Sam whimpered something unintelligible to Dean and turned, reached out to hold onto Dean like the hazy, clingy drunk he was. Dean wouldn’t mind it if Sam wasn’t so noticeably desperate, pain and fear over his future telegraphed so plainly in the way he grasped Dean, fingertips straining to hold onto his big brother like he really believed Dean was his only hope for salvation.

It was so strikingly _wrong_ that even if Sam didn’t remember this, even if little brother was three sheets to the wind right now, Dean had to stop whatever was going on here.

“Dean-”

“No, shut up,” Dean interrupted harshly, masking how frightened he was to hear whatever Sam would say next. “Just… shut up. You talked. Now it’s my turn.”

Sam swallowed, looking up at Dean with familiar unconditional trust in his glassy eyes, and Dean felt the equally familiar rush of affection for Sam run through him. Sam clenched his jaw and nodded. It was Dean’s turn to talk now.

Dean didn’t know where to start so he rearranged them on the bed, Sam on his side and Dean lined up against his back so he didn’t have to look Sam in the eye while he said whatever terrifically maudlin crap was gonna come out of his mouth… but also so he could still hug the kid, still hold him if Sam had to curl up and cry for a spell.

“Dad didn’t get it. I don’t know how he didn’t get it but…” Dean sighed, pressed his forehead against the back of Sam’s neck.

Sam pulled his good arm up across his chest to hug himself and Dean reached over and did the same, gripping Sam’s wrist, trying to pour so much security and love into his actions here because he couldn’t find the words.

“I only believe what I know, and Sammy, I know you. I know you better than I knew dad, better than I know or understand his last words to me, better than some vague destiny. I know _you_.” Dean pushed their hands against Sam’s heart. Sam ducked his head and curled in a little. Dean compensated, covering him protectively. “Do you understand me?”

Sam nodded shakily.

They rested for awhile, just breathing.

Sam wasn’t settling. He twitched in Dean’s arms, fingers playing at the edges of his cast.

“I don’t want to turn evil,” he whispered. His cries were soft but clear and it was like a reflex for Dean to hold him tighter.

“You won’t, Sam, you never will,” Dean promised. He pulled back and Sam rolled over, reached for his brother and buried his head into Dean’s chest, ashamed but needing it and if it made Dean feel better too, well, he wouldn’t admit it. That promise, that lie, wasn’t them. He felt dirty for having said it. And screw Dad for doubting Sam, for seeding this darkness into them. 

But _this_ -? Holding Sam together while the kid coped, it wasn’t exactly good but it was grounding. This was what he, what they both, knew; it was familiar ground they’d tread. They were there for each other, believed in each other, propped each other up when the other was down. And Dean honestly didn’t know what was wrong with the world that it seemed like Sam kept getting the wrong end of the cosmic stick but Sam was handling it. Barring sudden midday binges during a case, Sam was handling it.

Sam chose that moment to speak, voice wet and weak under Dean’s chin.

“It just feels like… it feels like something’s coming to fuck me up so bad that I’ll go evil.”

Dean closed his eyes and sighed under the weight. He knew what Sam was talking about. He felt it too. He cursed their father again, those insidious last few words working themselves out in both brothers’ heads: only the worst, most devastating trauma could rewire Sam’s brain so much that he’d make a fundamental change from good to evil. But honestly, how had he not already suffered that?

“Sam, you lost the woman you were gonna marry, your home, your entire future, we’ve lost Dad. If anything bad was gonna happen that’d make you go dark side, it’s already happened. And you’re still one of the good guys.”

“With you.”

“With me.” Dean nodded in idle agreement. Sam looked up at him with that puppy thing he did. “What?”

Sam pressed his lips together, red eyes glistening with tears but he just shook his head and turned around, backed himself against Dean. 

Suddenly Dean understood.

“Hey.” Dean wrapped his arms around him. “Sammy, I’m not gonna leave you.”

“You could die.”

“Even if I did, you’d be okay.”

“You wouldn’t be around to kill me if I wasn’t.” Sam’s voice was flat, toneless. It hurt. 

Dean squeezed Sam. “Don’t say things like that. Don’t even think them.”

Sam huffed with drunken indignity, then sighed as Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “Just sleep, Sammy. It’ll be better when you wake up.”

“Okay,” Sam whispered, finally relaxing against his big brother and gripping Dean’s arm tight against his chest.

Dean decided to close his eyes too for a spell, just until Sam was all the way out, and then maybe he could slip out for his own drink. He’d seen the bar downstairs, the older gentleman who’d cheerfully mistaken them for antiquers manning it. 

But for now, just for a little bit, Dean could linger here, curled up with Sammy in a soft bed with a sturdy locked door keeping everything out. He could let go and relax as he listened to his little brother’s even breath, let the warmth of their bodies soothe him. 

Sam began to snore softly. Dean smiled and tucked his head against Sam’s. 

Just a few more minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [my tumblr](https://fogsrollingin.tumblr.com/post/190800212921) awhile back.. Thanks so much for reading!


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